


The Greatest Catch

by dinglehoppersaplenty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Baseball, Fluff, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinglehoppersaplenty/pseuds/dinglehoppersaplenty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler brings Dylan to the Annual Hoechlin Clan Labor Day Barbecue. Dylan is nervous, but Tyler knows his family will love him. Tyler is right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Catch

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this photo](http://dinglehoppersaplenty.tumblr.com/post/30836461337/dylanoblowme-erin-clayton-from-papa) and the tag vomit I had about it.

Tyler put the truck into park and looked over at Dylan, who was looking up at Tyler’s aunt’s house and all the cars parked in front of it with something like trepidation, his hands twisting in his lap. Tyler reached over, taking one of his hands and threading their fingers together.

Dylan looked over. “I’m not nervous, I swear.”

Tyler chucked, but didn’t bother telling him there’s no reason to be; they’d had variations of the conversation a multitude of times over the past few weeks. Instead, he just kissed the back of Dylan’s hand, still wrapped in his, and looked at him under the rim of his cap. “You ready?”

Dylan nodded, releasing Tyler’s hand to rub his palms on his jeans. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They met at the back of the truck, Tyler reaching in for the cooler that had a twelve-pack of Bud and store-bought pasta salad in it, Dylan juggling their mitts he pulled out from behind his seat for the pick-up game they would undoubtedly be playing later. He looked mostly composed, but Tyler could tell by the way he was looking down and the hunch of his shoulders that he was uncomfortable.

As they headed up the driveway, Tyler caught Dylan’s hand with the one not holding the cooler. Dylan squeezed and gave him that small, private smile Tyler knew was just for him.

Then the front door opened and a small girl ran out.

“Uncle Ty!”

“Heather!” He simultaneously dropped the cooler and Dylan’s hand, just in time to catch the five-year-old and haul her up into his arms. “How’s my girl?” he asked, smacking a kiss to her cheek.

She giggled, wiping her face on his sleeve. “Good. Momma said I could have a popsicle later!”

“Did she now? Did Gramma get your favorite kind?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “She said she saved all the purple ones for me!” Then she caught sight of Dylan over Tyler’s shoulder. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Dylan froze, eyes going wide, and Tyler laughed. “Yep, that’s my boyfriend, Dylan.”

“Hi!” she said, waving a chubby hand. “Are you and Uncle Ty gonna get married? ‘Cause mommy said I couldn’t have a boyfriend unless I wanted to marry him, so I had to break up with Tommy.”

To cover up Dylan’s sputtering for an answer, and the way his own heart jumped at the ‘m’ word, Tyler latched on to the other half of the statement that did not compute. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Well, not anymore, ‘cause momma said I had to marry him, and I don’t wanna marry Tommy.” She said this all very matter-of-factly, and Tyler was pleased to note that he wasn’t the only one who felt surprised by this information; Dylan’s mouth was hanging open just as much as his.

“Heather! Come play Ninja Turtles with us!” Tyler’s second cousin Jacob stuck his head around the corner of the garage, gesturing for her to come play, and Heather squirmed out of Tyler’s arms.

“I wanna be Shredder!” she yelled without even a glance back towards them.

“I didn’t know kids today even knew what Ninja Turtles were,” Dylan said, looking possibly even more dumbfounded than before, but maybe a little impressed, too.

“Well, I make sure these kids get raised right.”

They looked over to see Carrie following Heather’s steps from the front door at a more leisurely pace, her six-month pregnant belly leading the way. Tyler smiled at her, glad to see that even though she looked a bit tired, she still seemed happy.

“C’mere and give your big sister a hug,” she demanded when she was a few feet away, holding her arms out, and Tyler acquiesced immediately, swooping in and hugging her tightly. When he stepped back, she grabbed him around the biceps, looking at them in amazement. “Jesus, Ty, you lifting weights or eating them?”

“Maybe you’re just getting smaller,” he teased. “Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”

She “pfft”ed at him, waving a hand. “Like I’m getting any smaller. I feel like I’ve swallowed a basketball.” Then she pushed him back. “But enough about me, where’s the boyfriend?”

Tyler looked back over his shoulder, where Dylan was standing somewhat awkwardly. “Hey, Dyl.” Dylan looked up, eyebrows raising as if to say,  _who, me?_  “C’mere.”

He took a few steps forward, and Tyler stood as somewhat of a mediator between them. “Carrie, this is my boyfriend, Dylan. Dyl, this is my big sister Carrie.”

“Hi,” he said, waving with one of the mitts, and Carrie shook her head.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of a hug, mister.” And then she had swooped in, tossing her arms around Dylan’s body and trapping his arms between them. Dylan looked wide-eyed at Tyler, but Tyler just laughed.

Dylan narrowed his eyes in a way that might have meant “you’re the worst boyfriend ever” but Tyler was willing to take his chances.

———

The next couple of hours went by in a flurry of family and food. He hadn’t seen most of them since Easter, and some he hadn’t even seen since the same event the year before. There were a lot of hugs, seeming how everyone was happy to see him, but they were even happier to meet Dylan.

At first Dylan was pretty quiet and stuck to Tyler’s side, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people; there was a pretty big difference between Tyler’s family (mom with eight brothers and sisters, dad with five, not to mention all the spouses and children and even grandchildren, and Tyler’s own three siblings and their assorted family) and Dylan’s (only one sister, barely more than a year older, with only two aunts on his dad’s side). Then they got some food—his dad and uncle had roasted a pig to perfection, and his mother had made her famous potato salad—and managed to score some seats near some of the more mellow members of Tyler’s family, and Dylan started opening up a bit. Then he’d left to go to the bathroom, and when Tyler went looking for him twenty minutes later he found him talking baseball with his cousin Mark in the hallway, and hadn’t even looked like he needed saving.

Tyler hung back in the kitchen, picking grapes out of a bowl of fruit salad and watching Dylan laugh, when his mom came in. She slid the glass door shut behind her and smiled at Tyler. “Hey, sweetie. Cooling off for a minute?”

Tyler shrugged, picking out a piece of melon this time, then looked over at Dylan again. “Something like that.”

She followed his gaze, then smiled again, walking around to the opposite side of the island and reaching around to pick out a strawberry. “The family seems to like him,” she said, popping the fruit into her mouth.

Grinning, Tyler looked down at the counter. “Yeah, I knew they would.”

“How nervous was he?”

“Not as nervous as when he met you and Dad, but nervous enough.”

It was at that moment that Dylan finally seemed to notice Tyler was under the same roof as he was, and he quickly said goodbye to Mark before sidling up next to Tyler.

“Hey babe.” Tyler pressed a kiss to Dylan’s cheek, ignoring the flick of Dylan’s eyes to his mother, and wrapped an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “Did you make a new friend?”

“Yeah, he seems like a pretty cool guy.” Dylan’s hand tentatively came to wrap around Tyler’s waist.

“So we’re not all too scary, are we?” Tyler’s mother asked, and Dylan laughed nervously, free hand rubbing at his chin.

“Yeah, I guess not—”

They were interrupted by the door sliding open again, this time admitting one of Tyler’s cousins, slightly breathless. “Hey, we’re gonna start playing before it gets too dark!”

———

He and Dylan ended up on the same team, Dylan catching for Tyler’s pitches (and totally ignoring the snickers from his family,  _shut up Tanner_.) They worked smoothly, almost effortlessly, the way everything they did together went.

The family was nothing if not playfully competitive; while everything was a bit slowed down for those who were maybe a bit too young or too old, for the most part they played hard. Ultimately, however, their team lost, even after a spectacular catch on Tyler’s part that led to two outs and the end of the game.

They all gathered together on the pitch after the game, everyone slapping hands and backs and giving hugs—Tyler thought he might have to usher Dylan into the fold, but Travis was two steps ahead of him, nearly crushing him in a hug before handing him off to the next person on the team.

Dylan caught his gaze over the shoulder of Carrie’s husband, looking the tiniest bit overwhelmed, but mostly just—happy. Tyler couldn’t help but give him a grin in response.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and Tyler turned to see his father standing there, wearing a similar grin. He had the ball they’d been playing with in one hand and his phone in the other. “How about a picture for your old man?”

Tyler laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Sure, pops.” He took the ball and waited for his dad to figure out the camera on his phone. Just as his dad was about to hold up his phone, Dylan bounded in, clapping an arm around Tyler’s shoulders and kissing his cheek with a loud smack.

“Great play!” he said, cheeks flushed, that patch on his jaw noticeable. Tyler was too surprised at the sudden display of affection to be able to respond quickly, but then Dylan was caught up in Tyler’s dad standing there, phone ready. “Oh! You were—I didn’t ruin it, did I?” he asked, arm dropping and moving to take a step back.

“No no no, this is even better!” Tyler’s dad said, ushering Dylan back; Tyler wrapped his arm around Dylan’s shoulders for emphasis, and smiled when he felt Dylan’s arm settle just beneath his shoulder blades, hand gripping in the fabric of his shirt. “Alright guys, say cheese!”

Tyler wanted to roll his eyes but just smiled instead, waiting the requisite three seconds until the flash went off. It wasn’t even until after the picture that he realized he’d still had the stupid ball in his hand.

“This’ll be great for Twitter,” his dad said, thick fingers working at the buttons on his phone, at a quicker pace than Tyler would have anticipated.

“For all twenty of your followers, the majority of whom who are at this barbeque, to see?” Tyler asked with a laugh, while Dylan silently questioned the ball and he could only shrug in response.

“You betcha!” Then he thrust the phone in the boy’s direction, so they could see the picture and caption he added.

It wasn’t too bad of a picture, really. They were both smiling, Tyler with more teeth than Dylan, and neither of them were very washed out, even with the flash. And then the caption—

“‘Our boy Ty and his great catch,’” Dylan read dutifully, and Tyler’s dad beamed.

“It’s great, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling the phone back and pressing a few more buttons.

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad, you’re so punny. I can barely hold back my laughter,” he deadpanned.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” was all his dad said, before pocketing the phone and turning to walk away.

When Tyler turned back to him, Dylan mostly just looked confused. “I don’t…get it? The catch I get,” he clarified, gesturing at the ball still in Tyler’s hand, “but not the pun.”

“He means you, dumbass,” Tyler said affectionately, stepping more into Dylan’s space. He was extremely pleased when Dylan didn’t even bother to glance around them, instead leaning slightly toward Tyler and giving him a tentative smile.

“Your dad thinks I’m a great catch?” He was trying to play it off as a joke, Tyler knew, but there was a level of genuine uncertainty in his voice that Tyler didn’t want to play off.

Tyler arched an eyebrow. “Of course he does.” He took another half step closer, tossing his glove and that stupid ball away so he could wrap his hands around Dylan’s hips. “So do I. In fact, you’re a fantastic catch.” He placed a kiss to the splotch of color on Dylan’s jaw that was growing a deeper red by the second. “Maybe even the best catch there is.”

Dylan settled his arms around Tyler’s shoulders, long fingers brushing at the sensitive skin on the back of Tyler’s neck. He looked straight into Tyler’s eyes, and then said, “That is some of the cheesiest shit you have ever said to me.” But his eyes were sparkling, lips half-quirked in that way that meant  _but I love you anyway_ , and Tyler couldn’t help but to lean forward to steal a kiss.

Dylan tasted like fruit and barbeque sauce, which surprisingly enough was not too bad altogether. He pulled Dylan even closer, and he came easily, smiling a bit into the kiss.

“Ow-ow, get it, Ty!” he heard Tanner call out, and then Dylan pulled away with a self-conscious laugh. Tyler didn’t let him go, however, and Dylan gave him that small, private smile again.

Yeah. Tyler wasn’t letting go for a long time.


End file.
